


As Old As Time

by Azereaux



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Love Confessions, M/M, Mutual Pining, Paranormal, Post-Time Skip, Shadow Person
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-21
Updated: 2020-05-21
Packaged: 2021-03-02 17:21:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,961
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24260488
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Azereaux/pseuds/Azereaux
Summary: Ferdinand finds unlikely support in the cemetery, and gains a new perspective to the age old problem of love.
Relationships: Ferdinand von Aegir/Hubert von Vestra
Comments: 10
Kudos: 82





	As Old As Time

**Author's Note:**

> Alternate description: Ferdinand gets a shadow person as his wingman.  
> I have so much trouble writing Ferdinand I have no idea WHY I keep writing from his perspective.
> 
> Anyway, I just really love the supernatural. I need more paranormal stories. While I've never seen a ghost exactly, I have other questionable encounters.

Ferdinand pushes open the wrought iron gates leading into the cemetery. He wrinkles his nose and wonders if it’s just his imagination, but the moment he steps inside he notices the air smells different – musty, like sodden leaves or the brittle pages of the ancient tomes that Hubert reads. Or maybe it’s just the smell of death, of the bodies buried beneath that makes the foundation of the grounds here.

The cemetery is old, much older than himself, and the uneven cobbled path he must walk goes deep. With the light from the lamp in his hand, Ferdinand can just barely read the words engraved onto nearby headstones and make out the carved intricate, spiraling designs of the wooden grave markers. Some of the flowers laying down in the grass are still fresh and bright, some are withering and brown.

Ferdinand can not sleep tonight. Hubert has been gone for seven days. Edelgard told him it is a complicated assignment that may take more time than usual, and even she does not know when he will be back. So to occupy his mind with something other than worry, Ferdinand looks to busy himself with extra duties, and one of those is looking into a recent rumour. The children told him one day during his weekly stroll through the city that there was a person lurking inside a mausoleum. It was an accidental discovery when their ball went over the iron fence, and when they went to retrieve it they fled in fear when a head peeked at them from behind the tomb.

The mausoleum with the broken door, Ferdinand thinks, that’s what they said. He keeps walking the path in hopes that he will find it soon, the atmosphere beginning to trouble him the deeper he goes, yet he continues to press onward. So far, every mausoleum he passes is still sealed tight, undisturbed save for candles lit at their entrance or fresh flowers braided into wreaths.

It is finally behind a large, twisted old tree that forks the cobbled path when Ferdinand finds what he is looking for. As he draws closer to the structure he realizes that it is exactly as they had described – but much worse. The entire front of the mausoleum is broken in some way, and the door isn’t intact. In fact, Ferdinand doesn’t even know where the door is and what remains is only a rusted, iron hinge forgotten in the grass outside. The stone wall is crumbling, fragmented at his feet, and it’s a true wonder how the structure is still standing with its front so badly damaged. When he steps inside he notices a tomb in the middle of the room that is undamaged, though the inscription on the front is worn down to the point it is unreadable.

Ferdinand holds out his lamp, looks around more. The space isn’t large and his light illuminates the entire room. The three walls that are still intact have fissures and water stains running down from the ceiling in darkened grey and brown streaks. There is just enough space to shuffle around the tomb that rests in the middle, and his boots crunch against the debris on the floor, deafeningly loud in the quiet of the night; he feels as if the dead will awaken from the noise he is making. But Ferdinand doesn’t see any signs of activity here – no clothes or bedding, no waste pile or food scraps or remnants of a fire. He still keeps his hand on the hilt of his sword.

Whoever was here is gone now, he concludes. Maybe the children scared them away and now they must find a new place to dwell. But when Ferdinand turns to leave, something in the corner of his eye catches his attention. Then his breath hitches at the sight. A tall, dark shape is looming in the opposite corner of the room. It first appears as a black mass but slowly it starts to shift, and Ferdinand can recognize the beginning formation of shoulders, a neck, and a head until it is a silhouette of a person. And there it stays. Still.

Even with his heart racing in his chest Ferdinand doesn’t run, his fight or flight response trained to stand his ground. And then the figure finally moves, steps toward him slowly without making a sound even as its feet lands on the debris scattered across the floor. His hand tightens around the hilt of his sword as he prepares for a fight. There are no eyes – there is nothing discernible about the figure at all except its human-like shape – but Ferdinand can feel the staring.

It stops a few feet in front of him. He makes sure his throat won’t seize before asking, “What are you? Do you wish to do me harm?” I will not be scared, he thinks, I have seen things far worse. Then it moves closer and Ferdinand takes a little step backward. He musters as much authority as he can into his voice. “I asked you a question, fiend. Answer me now or I will be forced to draw my sword.”

There is no voice or noise made, but Ferdinand can understand that it is communicating. _You are not running._

“You have given me no reason to run.”

_You are not afraid of the darkness and what it brings?_

“No,” he answers truthfully. Ferdinand thinks of Hubert. “Not for a while.”

The shadow keeps moving closer and Ferdinand tries to maintain the distance until his back hits the stone wall. I should run now, Ferdinand thinks as his eyes glimpse over the figure's shoulder to the entrance. But his body refuses to move from against the wall – he is still wary, but he doesn't feel any malice from the figure and Ferdinand is now more curious than he is frightened. He’s never encountered anything like this before, yet something in its presence feels familiar.

_Why are you here?_

“I came to investigate a rumour that is frightening the local children.” Ferdinand looks at the tomb. “Are you a ghost? Is this your resting place?”

 _No._ The figure is now only a few inches away. Suddenly, the shadow’s hand reaches out to hold underneath Ferdinand’s chin, tilting his head from side to side and examines his face.

“What are you doing?” Ferdinand asks. The shadow is cold to the touch, and he feels it especially when a finger brushes over his bottom lip. The feeling of familiarity strikes his core again, and he tries to suppress it. Then its hand drops from his face. The figure doesn’t move away and neither does Ferdinand, his back still pressed against the wall. His hand no longer grips at the sword but is back to his side. Ferdinand can still feel it staring at him and in turn he is staring right back, curious about the figure before him. Even with the light of the lamp the figure seems to swallow up all the light into nothing. A shadow person.

Suddenly they speak. _I wish to be left alone._

“Are you not always alone?” Ferdinand asks. He doesn’t think the cemetery is a very popular place. But its head turns toward the broken wall. There is a sudden wave of sorrow that Ferdinand can feel deep into his bones. "What happened?"

They turn back to Ferdinand. _Vandals. From long ago._

He frowns. “Desecrating a place such as this is an exceptional low. I am truly sorry about what has happened.”

Both Ferdinand and the shadow are staring at the entrance. The conversation has stopped a long while ago, but Ferdinand doesn’t mind. When he was younger he may have tried to fill in the space between, but now he is used to comfortable silences from Hubert. He looks upward – there is a thin veil of clouds covering the sky, yet still thick enough to block the stars from view. He looks to the ground, and there is another piece of the missing door he didn’t notice before; it is so rusted and twisted that in the dark he thought it was a piece of wood sticking up.

The shadow suddenly speaks. _I want peace as deeply the way you want love._

He feels his cheeks burning and pushes himself off against the wall. Now Ferdinand truly wants to run. “I do not know what you are talking about.”

 _I felt it in my touch._ The shadow is undisturbed. _What is their name?_

Ferdinand purses his lips, wants to keep the name inside his heart instead of on his tongue. But it has been far, far too long held inside and growing that there isn’t enough space to keep it a secret anymore, and he speaks before he can stop himself. “Hubert von Vestra.”

Said out loud, his feelings are suddenly made too real.

Ferdinand leans back against the wall for support, tired. The last few restless nights are finally catching up to him, nights spent gazing out his bedroom window with a cup of coffee to help keep him awake. The nights when Hubert must leave to do his work, Ferdinand secretly keeps watch below into the courtyard, waiting to see his walking figure under the starlight. It helps him sleep with the knowledge that Hubert is safe.

_Hubert von Vestra._

“Yes,” Ferdinand says. He understands now how remedying it is for the mind to talk to a stranger who can’t pass judgement. “But I do not think Hubert loves me back.”

_Why?_

“We do not have a great history together. But now that we are older and wiser, we can at least admit to feeling respect.”

_But you feel something deeper._

“It was never my intention to want to be more than colleagues. But when you work closely with someone, you start to notice things. He is second to none in loyalty and intellect. He is sharp. And you would not expect such a quiet, melancholy man like him to be humorous but he can be in his own way.” It seems Ferdinand can’t stop wearing his heart on his sleeve tonight. “Did you know his teeth are a little crooked? So I like to see him smile.”

_Tell him._

" _No,_ " Ferdinand sharply says. “At least, not yet." He shrugs. "But maybe this can be considered practice – you remind me of him. I think that is why I did not run.”

_How._

“I came here because you scared the children – you both have that in common. And the way you carry yourselves with an air of melancholy. Being shadows.” Ferdinand softly smiles. “Cold fingers.”

The shadow places its hand back underneath Ferdinand’s chin and tilts his head up so they are looking at each other. Ferdinand swallows.

 _Tell him_.

“I don’t want to ruin what we have.”

_If we are as similar as you say, you will not ruin anything._

“You do not know him the way I do.”

_And he does not know you the way you want him to._

Ferdinand frowns. “What do you know about it?”

The shadow turns to the outside. There are hundreds of grave markers in the cemetery, many worn down from age or rotted away into obscurity. Names that no one has remembered for years, and names that will be remembered for many years to come. They turn back to Ferdinand. _I have seen more grief, rage, and tears than you will experience in a lifetime. I have seen more laughter and joy than you will know. If you waste the opportunity now, you will regret it the next time you find yourself here._

“But I do not know if I have built up enough courage.”

_In the face of fear courage is built in an instant._

Up in the sky the clouds have moved along and the stars are unhidden, bright and brilliant in their abundance. Ferdinand can hear pests buzzing around them. There is the rhythmic croaking of a frog somewhere in the grass. The wind picks up, shaking the old tree's branches and tries to scatter leaves into the air. He can hear and see all that is happening – Ferdinand has long adjusted to the dark.

Then he breathes. He breathes in the musty air of the cemetery and closes his eyes, thinks about the ancient tomes Hubert reads. He feels the cold against his skin reaching deep into his bones and imagines they are Hubert’s fingers, blackened by the darkest of magic, a world he is much too vain to consider. He does not want his own sun-kissed skin to appear as if it had been permanently dipped in soot, but he won’t mind those fingers against him. He no longer minds the work Hubert does in the shadows, knows it is necessary to keep the world they have all painstakingly crafted from crumbling down. Ferdinand breathes – he does not mind if he must find his courage in the cemetery because he has fallen for the Grim Reaper.

The shadow removes its hand from Ferdinand’s chin. _He is coming._

“Hubert?” Ferdinand says. “How do you know?”

_This is a place of love. He is here for you._

“I–” Ferdinand begins but then he stops, forgetting what he wanted to say. He has never thought of the cemetery as anything other than a place for the dead.

The sound of grass bending and rustling is becoming louder. Footsteps that were once just a distant disturbance in the night is now noticeably rhythmic; he can hear each step approaching.

_Do not die with regret. Tell him._

He can only nod.

The figure takes small steps backward until they are at the opposite wall, standing in the place where they first appeared before Ferdinand’s eyes. Then slowly – as if made of nothing but smoke, as if the fingers that were moments ago against his skin were never solid – they disappear.

A glimmering light outside draws brighter as it gets closer. Then Ferdinand sees a gloved hand with a flame floating above the palm. Hubert's face – his eyes wide – appear next.

“Ferdinand, what are you doing here alone?”

“I was looking into a rumour for the children.” He looks back to the corner where the shadow disappeared. "They were scared of something lurking about."

"I see." Hubert's expression is calm again. He approaches Ferdinand and stops when he is just an arm's reach away. "I was worried. This isn't a place I would have expected to find you."

"No. It isn't." Ferdinand tilts his head to the side and draws his brows into a line before asking, “How did you find me?”

Hubert looks away to the wall. “You were not in your room so I asked Lady Edelgard."

Ferdinand nods. "So she knows you are safe, too."

"I would have liked to come back a few days earlier but there were… complications." Hubert looks back to him. "It doesn't matter anymore. Come now – it is quite late, and no matter your combat experience it's still dangerous to be alone at night."

Hubert turns to leave. He takes one step toward the entrance when – by impulse – Ferdinand’s hand reaches out and grabs Hubert by the crook of his elbow. As his mind catches up to his body, Ferdinand can feel his heart hammering in his chest at what he has done. When he is given a look of confusion, Ferdinand realizes he can’t think of a lie quick enough. “Wait. I need to tell you something.”

“What is it?”

It is the first time tonight that Ferdinand truly feels scared. “I love you.”

The confession is so sudden that he expects to receive a look of surprise, but Hubert’s expression never changes and somehow that is worse. Ferdinand can’t tell if he is surprised, or disgusted, or sympathetic. Perhaps angry? He knows so little of what is going through his head that the usually comfortable silence between them is too loud. He wants to ruin the atmosphere – Ferdinand wants to fill the space between with mindless chatter, but he is not the same immature person he used to be. So instead, Ferdinand releases his hold on Hubert’s elbow and uses what is left of his courage to lift his head up high and look Hubert in the eyes.

“Shall we head back?” he asks.

“Wait, do you–”

He holds up a hand. “Please, Hubert. Say no more and let me keep my pride.”

“That isn’t it.” Hubert reaches out. Ferdinand didn’t know his hand had been shaking until Hubert steadies it with his own by lacing their fingers together. “Do you truly mean what you said?”

“Yes,” Ferdinand says. His heart races again. “I have no reason to lie to you.”

Fingers still intertwined, Hubert gently leads him forward until they are close enough so he can lean down and kiss Ferdinand’s forehead and kiss his cheek. His lips still linger close, so when Hubert speaks Ferdinand can feel the words against his skin. “Then I need to tell you something as well."

Outside the mausoleum Ferdinand stalls. He turns back at the entrance and holds up his lantern. He looks at the cracks and fractures, at the rusted, twisted iron that was once a door.

"Do you see the damage, Hubert? There is so much,” Ferdinand says. “We should rebuild the wall so no one can get inside.”

Ferdinand looks at the grey chunks of stone at his feet hidden in the grass. He looks at the splinters of decaying wood. Then, he looks inside one last time at the tomb, and at the water stained walls until his eyes trail to the corner. He does not want this place to collapse. Ferdinand mouths thank you to the empty space before leaving, falling in step beside Hubert into the night.

**Author's Note:**

> Because I'm trash, you can take or leave the exchange he has with the shadow as a little flirty lol... Shadow/Ferdinand/Hubert ahaha... Thanks for giving this a shot;;;


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